


FootWork

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anger Sex, Angry Sex, Clubbing, Dancing, M/M, Rough Sex, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: Shiro wasn't the same person he used to be. He used to be wild and young and free. Maybe those parts of himself had been lost along the way.But for one night, he's determined to reclaim them. Lance is hardheaded and obnoxious and he's everything that makes Shiro want to give into those more primal urges again.





	FootWork

**Author's Note:**

> I have a stockpile of fics that have been sitting in my google docs and I keep farting around with them and never finish them! I'm trying to change that :) So here's one I've been sitting on for a while. Set before Shiro got his pretty all white hair and when he was the black paladin. :D

His voice droned in his ears. A carefully recited script that he'd combed through a thousand times in his head. One that he and Allura had constructed and recited over and over and over again.

Smile.

  
Make eye contact.

  
Don't seem too serious even though this is a serious situation.

  
The Respid people considered handshakes to be rude. They knocked forearms together in greeting instead. That had been in the briefing with Allura and Coran.

  
A pair of wild, honey eyes stared across the short, squat table at him, focused and refusing to look anywhere else. Like being under a microscope, always.

  
It didn't really become easier. But this was him now. This was his job, he didn't get a say so. The universe had chosen his tasks for him and he just went along with the motions.  
  
The Respid elder perked his sharp set of ears crowning his animalistic head. He curled his lip up giving just a glittering hint of perfect fangs.  
  
"And wouldn't flying the flag of Voltron just make us targets to the Galra empire?" He growled lowly, voice rattling like rocks in a tin can.  
  
Shiro drew in a deep breath.  
  
Right. The questions. The hesitance. That was normal. He'd dealt with this too. He was trained for this.  
  
He spouted off his usual answer, promises of protection, declarations of strength in numbers, standing shoulder to shoulder with their allies would eventually cause the downfall of the Galra empire. Recited knowledge. Diplomatic, perfect, strong. He needed to seem believable or course. The black paladin was strong, he rallied the masses and he glued the pieces.  
  
Except sometimes he didn't even quite believe his own carefully selected set of words. Would they overthrow the Galra? Who fucking knew. Would they all just die out here in space far from home fighting a war they hadn't asked for? Probably.

"We have managed to stay out of the Galra’s wrath by being a trade planet. Why would we want to ruin that...black paladin?" The massive creature asked, folding big arms across his chest.  
  
Whispers from the others seated in a circle around Shiro's position danced through the room.  
  
Another deep breath.  
  
More words of encouragement. This wasn't turning out to be as easy as some of their other meetings that had unfolded in the week previous. The people of this planet were set in their ways. They had skirted by with being a scuzzy, back alley planet that not even the Galra really wanted to touch. The disgusting room they all sat in, stale with dust and rickety walls was just homage to that fact.  
  
Shiro shifted on the cushion in which he sat cross-legged upon. Not to mention the seating arrangements were less than comfortable.  
  
The elder harrumphed at Shiro's words, taking them in, but his scrutinizing gaze did not change. It remained stiff and mean and hollow.

Shiro smiled, forced but trying so hard to be real. He hadn't slept. In days. He was tired and he didn't want to be here. That fact kept sitting heavily on his shoulder, reminding him again and again of its existence. It refused to be forgotten. And so it chattered into his ear loudly.  
  
More words. More explanation. More things he'd practiced but hardly believed anymore. But the elder and the group seemed to still be listening, their ears all directed towards the black paladin.  
  
A choir of giggles from the back of the room interrupted Shiro's words and his eyes flicked in the direction of the sound.  
  
A group of the fur clad creatures were gathered on the far end of the room, huddled around something far more interesting than Shiro's talk of war and alliances.  
  
The big man drew his brows together for a quick second and directed his attention back on the conversation at hand.

A break of giggles and snorts caused the black paladin to trip slightly, eyes drawn to the sound once more.  
  
_Goddammit Lance_ .  
  
The blue paladin was laughing right along with the cluster of Respids, most looking to be of the younger variety, around Lance's own age. Sometimes Shiro forgot Lance was still so early in his years. War made them all older. It was easy to forget they were all nothing more than young adults.  
  
Lance grinned wide, clutching the small Altean device in his fingers, sliding his thumb across the screen to change the photo displayed on it.  
  
"And this is when we took out this big ol ugly robeast, the thing was like nearly twice the size of us," Lance declared, proudly showing the images to the crowd of completely enthralled creatures.  
  
There were several "oos" and "ahhhs" some of the Respids scooting in closer, eyes wide and interested in the tales Lance was weaving. Fantastic stories that were mostly true.  
  
"Oh and these are of me with all the nice folks of that planet, but I mean they weren't as cute as all of you," Lance displayed some more photos, giving the group a devilish smile and a wink.  
  
The chime of bashful giggles assaulted Shiro's ears. Ignoring it was becoming more difficult.  
  
Focus. Focus. Focus.  
  
Lance was not being subtle or quiet. And although the elders didn't seem bothered by the blue paladin's flirty antics...Shiro was.  
  
This was business. And Lance was goofing off as usual. Flirting with everything that so much as fucking moved. It made Shiro's gut somersault in the wrong direction.

Lance flirted with everything under the sun. Always. It was his nature and it was endearing in the stupidest of ways.  
  
He flirted with Hunk, and even Keith. He avoided Pidge, but it wasn't like he hadn't tried several times.  
  
But around Shiro he was never like that. It was never directed at the other man. Saved for everyone...but him.  
  
Shiro swallowed.  
  
It was because he was too hard. He was too stern. He was too frightening. Lance probably hated him. He wasn't here to be friends he supposed. He would have liked to have been. But now he was just the fucking leader and he was on the outer circle of it all. The others tolerated him. They listened to him...or this version of him that he'd molded himself into. It felt like a shitty Halloween costume he'd pulled down over his head.  
  
Lance was funny. He loved the way his mouth quirked when he smiled. He liked how genuine Lance's laugh was. He loved how animated he got over things. He would have given his other arm to have any of that boisterous joy directed his way...but it wasn't. And so he was just left an outsider again. Wallowing and he was so bitter. Like the kid picked last on the dodgeball team.  
  
He didn't fit.  
  
Lance leaned in close to one of the young, slender, male Respids. He whispered something into his ear and Shiro's heart sunk so very low as blush seared across the young things face.  
  
What had Lance said to him?  
  
Something silly and flirty and wonderful.  
  
Something Shiro would never have.  
  
He was being stupid.

Their laughter was so genuine as Lance rallied them all in for photos, grinning and posing and they were eating out of the palm of his hands.    
  
Chirping and blushing and laughing.  
  
He knew Lance was helping in his own way. Making the natives comfortable around them. That's why he was here. Lance was good at keeping things light. Shiro was less so.  
  
But as of right now Lance's antics were only succeeding in making Shiro more and more mad.  
  
It wasn't justified. He knew that.  
  
Jealousy was maybe a component of it. Which was wrong. But it didn't make the sensation tingling on the back of his neck go away.  
  
He'd had enough. He couldn't take it a second longer. It had been hard enough with Lance riding shotgun with him in the black lion. His cockpit smelled like coconut and he'd swallowed all the butterflies dancing in his stomach.  
  
"Excuse me for one moment, I need to have a word with my comrade," Shiro said with a nod.  
  
The Respids grunted in understanding.  
  
Shiro rose to his feet and marched across the room, boots thudding against the old wood.  
  
"Lance," Shiro's voice was low and the blue paladin's head immediately swiveled to address him.  
  
"Yeah what's up?" Lance said smoothly.  
  
"I need you for a minute," The black paladin said dryly.

The rickety door slammed behind Shiro's back, Lance exiting first, the lanky man shielding his eyes against the viciously bright afternoon sun. The air was dry and tepid, the entire planet feeling more like an oven on high heat than anything else.  
  
Lance seemed less than pleased to be dragged out of the air conditioning and into the dirt street in full armor.  
  
"Can we make this fast? I'm sweating like a pig," Lance complained fanning his face dramatically.  
  
Immediately there were eyes upon them, their full Voltron armor causing them to stick out from the crowd like a couple of sore thumbs. Shiro frowned and grabbed Lance by the elbow, dragging him around the building into the side alley.  
  
"What are you- hey you don't have to push," Lance complained ripping his arm away from Shiro in annoyance.  
  
"What the hell are you doing Lance??" Shiro snarled lowly, the two face to face in the shadow of the old building.  
  
Lance gave the black paladin a quizzical expression and cocked his hips a little.  
  
"What?" He snapped.  
  
"Do you HAVE to fucking flirt with them?? You are not helping me whatsoever, I'm trying to get these people on my side while you are over there...just dicking around," Shiro spat.  
  
Lance looked like someone had just thrown a brick at his head, his brows shooting up and mouth hanging open just a bit.  
  
Shiro was cussing??

The words seemed to smack into Lance and then slowly sink in. His face shifted as he sifted the words through his mouth and figured out he rather hated the taste.  
  
"I AM helping. I'm warming them up!! You see how comfortable they all are with me? Those elders don't seem as friendly with you do they? Maybe YOU are doing it wrong," Lance dared to hiss back.  
  
Shiro grit his teeth together hard.  
  
This was wrong. He was doing this all wrong. Why couldn't he stop???  
  
"For once in your life could you take this seriously??" Shiro barked.  
  
Lance balled up his fists.  
  
"Yeah and maybe for once in your life you could take the fucking stick out of your ass and loosen up. Or did the Galra beat all of that out of you?" Lance snarled.

Shiro felt his breath hitch somewhere in the back of his throat. He recoiled a little, the impact of the words hitting like a shotgun round to his gut. He wasn't sure what emotion might bubble up as a result. Maybe all of them. He didn't know.  
  
Lance snapped his mouth closed. He knew as soon as he'd said the words that they were wrong. But he was angry and not in the mood to take them back. He was too stubborn for that.  
  
"I just needed someone capable of being a partner on this mission and I got you. You are embarrassing Voltron and yourself,” Shiro yelled, voice reverberating along the walls or the alleyway.  
  
Lance shifted his weight.  
  
"Fine. I'm out," Lance yelled back.  
  
He looked older when he was angry. Beyond his years he'd been alive. Passionate, the space between his brows pinched together in a small crease. It was tragic how beautiful he was.  
Lance turned to storm off, boots kicking small wisps of dust in his wake.  
  
"What the hell do you mean?? You can't just leave Lance!" Shiro growled after him, daring to follow for a few steps.  
  
"I can and I will. Finish the mission by your fucking self," Lance called over his shoulder as the blue paladin headed into the flow of foot traffic leaving the black paladin standing there stiff lipped and still.  
  
Shiro cursed himself, anger still ringing in his ears. Lance's words left a sore spot down in the depths of his chest.  
  
_Or did the Galra beat all of that out of you?_  
  
Shiro instinctively touched at his Galra made arm.  
  
Maybe they had. They'd beaten _everything_ out of him.

Shiro watched the smears of blue disappear into the crowd. His heart told him to go after Lance, his head told him he had a job to do.  
  
Shiro couldn't go running off chasing crushes when the black paladin had an entire alliance resting on his shoulders.  
  
Shiro looked down at his feet, listening to the buzz of the passing aliens around him, the clack of wagon wheels, the slam of a door, a tent flap slapping against the breeze.  
  
Why had he done that?  
  
Snapped like that.  
  
Like an unpredictable dog...that's all he amounted to anymore. He wasn't helping his case acting like such a fool. Lance was happy and beautiful and wonderful. Lance was the glue that held them together without even knowing it. Lance wasn't the embarrassing one. Shiro was.  
  
Lance was everything he could have ever wanted.  
  
Lance was the dictionary definition of the type of young man Shiro would have shamelessly tailed back in his Garrison days. Shiro's heart stuttered. Back when he was just Shiro. And not all of this.  
  
Lance was perfect.  
  
Lance was way out of his league.

The rest of the meeting was a struggle at the very best. The group of cheery natives dissipated when Lance did not return and there was only Shiro in his place.  
  
Of course they did.  
  
Shiro wasn't the charmer Lance was.  
  
He used to be. But that seemed like eons ago at this point.  
  
The knock of forearms after the conversation was awkward. But Shiro had sealed their alliance and the aliens had agreed to side with Voltron. The black paladin had done his job. Like he always did.  
  
When Shiro's footwear hit the dirt outside the building once more, evening had settled down heavy over the landscape.  
  
Long shadows tiptoed across the dusty world, light shimmering through lopsided window frames. The city seemed to be even more alive at this time of day, as if they'd been hiding away from the heat for the rest of it.  
  
Music crept to him from a far away place, laughter and voices that rung high and excited.  
  
He wasn't sure how many hours it had been since Lance had departed.  
  
Shiro's shoulders dropped. He needed to find him. Maybe apologize. If Lance would even want to speak with him. He wouldn't have if he were Lance.  
  
His big body was put into motion, weaving his way through the many streets, mapping out his pathway back to the black lion. Groups of the aliens wandered here and there, the many bars and clubs along the city streets having come to life, neon signs blinking like holiday lights.  
  
The smell of booze laid heavy in the air.  
  
Shiro's feet stopped at the entrance to his own cockpit, only to find it empty. Lance's armor was the only thing left behind, the young man having obviously changed into his casual clothing he'd brought along.

Shiro sighed and brushed a heavy hand through his hair. His eyes flicked up to the reflection of the windshield. His snowy forelock was whisked backward by his palm, hairs white as ghosts and an unkind reminder of all that he'd been through. The man in the reflection was bigger. Older. Different. Scarred. Missing pieces.  
  
He didn't know that man.  
  
He let the soft bangs fall back into place.  
He remembered when they were jet black. He remembered when the scar across his nose didn't interrupt his features. He remembered when he could feel his right hand.  
  
His false fingers closed.  
  
He hadn't always been like this. He wished he'd known Lance before all of this. Before everything.

He remembered all the idiotic adventures he'd gotten into with Matt. The bar-hopping, the parties, chasing anything that so much as moved like a couple of horny idiots.  
  
He remembered the one night stands, the late night touches the fast and the wild and the exciting.  
  
He smiled softly.  
  
They'd been so stupid and young.  
  
He slowly began shucking his armor off. He didn't want the attention the clothing brought. He just wanted to be that Shiro he used to be so familiar with...if only for a second.  
  
The new clothing was lighter, it held less responsibility within its fibers.  
  
The sounds of the evening boomed in his ears. He didn't even know where to start. The main strip was illuminated with countless bars and establishments packed full of creatures as they came and went. A needle in a haystack was all Lance had become.  
  
Shiro breathed in deep.  
  
One at a time he supposed.  
  
He slipped into the first bar, eyes scanning the room diligently. Not a single human to be accounted for. Just a sea of pointed ears and claws and fangs and a world Shiro was so out of place in.

Before he could argue, his feet were carrying him to the middle of the room, pressing passed warm bodies, trying to make himself as small as possible.  
  
He was already here. He might as well have a drink.  
  
The bartender eyed him curiously and paused for a few seconds.  
  
"What can I get you?" The big beast grunted.  
  
Shiro felt so viciously strange. It had been so long since he'd been in such a situation. Dive bars like this used to be second homes to him. Did they have beer on alien planets?  
  
"Uh. Just...a beer," Shiro said scrunching up his nose.  
  
The bartender stared at him for a long moment then shrugged and grabbed something out of the iced coolers, cracked the top off on the bar and slid it to the black paladin. Shiro exchanged currency for the mystery beer and took it with him. He didn't really want to drink alone at the bar. He guessed wandering around drinking by himself wasn't much better.  
  
He took a swig.  
  
It tasted like skunked piss, but he'd had worse.

He followed the beckon of the music, sipping his beverage, kicking the dust. Maybe Lance didn't want to be found. Maybe he needed to give the blue paladin his space. Nobody really wanted him around anyway. The group always tended to drop the conversation when he entered the room. He didn't know how to be normal anymore. He wanted to feel young and carefree again. He didn't even know where to start.

The others would gossip and laugh with each other. Telling stories of their past mistakes, their love lives, their adventures. They never asked Shiro to share his tales. They didn't even know he had them. But he did. He had wild stories to tell of days passed.

But they had been stored away in a neat little suitcase.

  
Maybe this was all that was destined to be left. He'd burned down and these were the bare bones he would have to get used to.  
  
He took another drink.  
  
The more he poured down his throat, the better the taste seemed to get. It settled heavy in his stomach. Warm and pleasant.  
  
He wandered aimlessly. Looking for Lance but not really. If he found him, he found him...if he didn't...well he didn't.  
  
He didn't want to burden the other man. With all this broken anger stored up inside his chest. He'd taken it out on Lance. His emotions that he'd bottled. He used to be good at things like this. It was second nature. He'd have been hanging off of Lance like a new coat, making him laugh, getting him to smile.  
  
This new...thing...he'd become had forgotten how to do that. Maybe.  
  
He finished one beer and found another bar to obtain another. And another.  
  
Four had the ring of his neck tingling and red, cheeks painted pink.

He didn't remember his tolerance being so low. But he supposed it had been years after all.    
  
He tilted the neck of his drink again.  
  
He'd lost count of how many clubs he'd scanned through. Of how many faces he'd seen. The more he looked, the more alone he felt.  
  
His feet stuttered as he was faced with a large red building, the pink of it's neon lights bathing him in brilliance. Something quick and upbeat greeted him from the doorway. The music called him in, the energy warm and inviting.  
  
He tossed his empty bottle in the nearest bin and dragged himself inside.  
  
The smell hit him like a freight train. It was stale and rank, sweat from too many bodies, cigarette smoke, maybe vomit. A disgusting combination that used to have his blood running hot.  
  
It propelled him right back to those days long passed.  
  
His eyes jumped across the sea of moving bodies, and then stopped dead.  
  
His pupils widened as he soaked in the scene.  
  
Lance was right there in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by so many moving bodies, his head tilted back and the smile draped over his lips so wide and passionate. He moved with the music, perfectly in time, hair wild in the tepid air. He'd lost his shirt somewhere along the way, slender, gorgeous form glistening with perspiration.  
  
He had never seen the young man look so...free.

He felt like he was intruding on something incredibly personal. Again he was the outsider as he watched the blue paladin move. He was so fluid, looking like he absolutely belonged in such an environment. He was just a piece here, perfectly fitting. Gorgeous.  
  
Shiro took a step backward.  
  
Lance looked like he was having the time of his life, convulsing, teeming, brushing against whoever was closest to him, laughing so hard and heavy.  
  
Shiro would ruin it all.  
  
He should just leave.

And then he stopped. Gaze unable to be pulled away from the blue paladin. The way his motions swayed were captivating, back and forth and all around. The bigger man was hypnotized by it all, a helpless thing captured in the web Lance was weaving.  
  
Everything Lance touched seemed to blossom with life. The creatures around him were smiling too. Hands on the young man, dancing in time, swirling him around as he laced his fingers around the brawny neck of one native.  
  
Shiro clutched at his shirt.  
  
This used to be easy. Maybe somewhere hiding down deep that Shiro still existed. He sucked down a big breath. He wasn't sure where this confidence was coming from, maybe it was the beers. Maybe it was something else. But he wasn't about to ward it away.  
  
He looked down at the glisten of his prosthetic.  
  
It didn't matter.  
  
The dress code of the club seemed to be something far off from his overdressed state. He was going to fix that.  
  
With a firm tug he ripped the material over his head and tossed it away. He was too drunk to care where it ended up. He had others. He felt so exposed. Even with the prickle of the alcohol following him like a lost pup, it was still terrifying. He wasn't that same loud, brave, perfectly stupid young man. His scars were big. And ugly. He disregarded it. It didn't matter.  
  
He was different. Physically. Mentally. But he was still himself. He needed to be himself. If only for one single night.

His lungs inflated, he banged it into his head over and over again. For right now he wasn't the black paladin. There wasn't a war looming over his head. He wasn't the head of Voltron. The castleship was a long way away. He was just Shiro. That was all. His chest filled with something new. Excitement?  
  
Maybe that was it.  
  
The room was so very hot, making it hard to breathe, thick with hazy smoke and low lights.  
  
Shiro pressed through the crowd, making room for himself, eyes never losing track of Lance's position. He was crazy. He'd gone of the damned deep end.  
  
What was he fucking doing?  
  
He didn't know. But it had his heart thrumming in his chest like a hummingbird beating it's little wings so fast and so hard.  
  
Lance threw his hands into the air.  
  
Shiro was close enough to hear him laugh.  
  
It was pristine, liquid gold. Warm, inviting, stunning.  
  
Just a few more feet and he'd be in Lance's immediate circle.  
  
What was something he would have said all those years ago? How had he used to coax others into falling for him?  
  
"Hey. Little blue,"  
  
His voice was hardly his own.  
  
Lance perked at the familiar tone kissing at his senses over the music. His brows furrowed as he turned, halting his dancing to look in the direction of the sound.

Shiro flashed his most suave smile. He was sure it looked stupid but he tried his best to silence those thoughts. The large beast that had been draped around Lance's body saw Shiro coming with such determination and stepped aside.  
  
Lance gave the other man a frown.  
  
"Why are you here?" Lance said as Shiro came close enough to hear.  
  
Shiro's blood ran cold.  
  
No. He could do this. He could.  
  
"You don't have a dance partner," Shiro said with a sly smile, lips nearly pressed to Lance's ear.  
  
Lance narrowed his eyes.  
  
"I did. You just ran him off," Lance snarled.  
  
Shiro hooked his human finger in the space of Lance's belt loop.  
  
"I guarantee he can't dance like I can," Shiro said with a laugh.  
  
Lance's brows furrowed even farther, for good reason Shiro knew. Shiro hadn't so much as shared a fraction of his personal life with any of them. He'd closed everyone off. He'd slammed the door and locked it tight.  
  
But he wanted to crack it back open. He needed this.  
  
Lance was so warm up close.

Lance seemed to relax just slightly, face contorting into something more along the lines of curiosity. Approval of the advances, maybe wanting to see if Shiro was indeed full of bullshit.  
  
Shiro's fleshed hand pressed against the small of Lance's back, pulling him in close. He'd never been this close to Lance. Lance's eyes widened, roaming the length of Shiro's bulk, as if just now realizing the other man was only half dressed.

“Where's your shirt?” Lance smirked.

Shiro shrugged his shoulders up.

“Didn't think I needed it,” Shiro grinned.

Lance's eyes roamed the massive swells of Shiro's muscles, the man seeming so much bigger towered over him like so. Lance cocked his head, gaze halting on a small swatch of color etched into the skin just above Shiro's crotch. A shamrock, the ink faded and the lines a bit crooked, giving away that it was most likely a poorly done home job.

“You have a tattoo?” Lance asked in shock.

Shiro laughed.

“It was a spring break dare,” Shiro said cheekily.

Lance gave him an extremely confused look.  
  
Shiro sneered.  
  
The wolf came back around, padding to his side, wild again, with all of his teeth. Changed as he was...he'd not lost his appetite.  
  
A new song curled through both of their chest cavities and Shiro hummed low. He firmly twisted Lance around, chest pressed to Lance's back, hauling the slimmer man in close. He traced his lips along the curve of Lance's ear.  
  
"Let me show you," Shiro nearly purred.  
  
Lance's hand squeezed his in response.

Shiro's smile widened. This was a sensation he'd greatly missed. He'd hardly touched another person for more than a few seconds since his capture. A platonic hug. The touch of a hand on a shoulder. But nothing more than that. This was so exhilarating, blossoming to life big and fantastic.  
  
Shiro twirled Lance out and brought him back in. Hands wandered, sliding up, sliding down, pressing, pulling, touching. Lance was standoffish at first, slowly realizing that Shiro was more than keeping time with him...but was leading.

Confidently leading.  
  
Lance snapped up against Shiro, daring him with his eyes, flitting around him, working down to the floor and back up, meeting gazes with the bigger man, pressing himself backwards into him.  
  
Shiro met him at every motion, enjoying the way Lance kept trying to throw him off.  
  
Like riding a bike.

The music fed hungry souls, hot and breathless and eager. It was like coming home after being away for so long. That breath of air as you walked in the front door. The familiar scent of your house.  
  
Shiro's Galra palm slid around Lance's heaving abdomen, the young man careening and rocking against the touch, swiveling in Shiro's arms, turning to face the big man, who was making this look far too easy.  
  
"Since when did you know how to dance like this?" Lance hissed.  
  
Shiro cocked a brow.  
  
"You really think I'm going to reveal my secrets that easily?" Shiro whispered against Lance's neck.  
  
Lance gave the man a pair of sultry eyes, long lashes kissing the flushed tops of his cheeks.  
  
"I'll get them out of you one way or another," Lance declared as he purposefully dragged the point of his tongue across his lips.  
  
Shiro watched the motion ravenously.  
  
Lance was a predator.  
  
But he wasn't the only one sporting teeth here.  
  
"Is that so?" Shiro grinned, rocking slow and warm against Lance, timing with the throb of the music.  
  
Lance looped his arms around Shiro's shoulders, fingers caressing between massive muscles.  
  
"It is so. I don't think you know how good I am at playing this game," Lance sneered.  
  
Shiro's smile was venomous.  
  
"You might be good at the game, but I made the game," Shiro growled, boldly placing a chaste kiss to the side of Lance's neck.

Lance seemed to freeze at the action, eyes wide as they scored over Shiro's features.  
  
Nothing about the Shiro standing so very close to him, shirtless and sweaty, hair plastered to his forehead...was the Shiro Lance thought he knew.  
  
Maybe now he realized he didn't know Shiro at all. He didn't know the first thing about him. All he knew of Shiro were his piloting skills. He knew of his leadership role. Shiro was the black paladin. But he hadn't always been. There had been something before that. Something Lance was staring dead in the face.  
  
Shiro had been young. Shiro had been wild. Lance suddenly saw himself reflected in the other man, stormy eyes refusing to leave Lance's face.  
  
Lance reached out then, palms sliding over the striking features of Shiro's jaw, giving the man a pair of understanding eyes.  
  
"Shiro..." Lance whispered.  
  
The black paladin seemed to recoil slightly. Had he gone too far? This was too much. The beers in his belly were flitting to his head.  
  
"That was too much," Shiro said dropping his eyes.  
  
This new Shiro was slipping away, Lance was watching him go. Drawing back into himself and Lance had barely just gotten to see him for the first time.  
  
No, no, no.  
  
Lance grabbed Shiro's face sternly.  
  
"No. It wasn't enough," Lance declared as he dragged Shiro into him, pressing their mouths together firmly.  
  
Shiro's body went still for a moment before he registered the action and had the sense to react. His arms cradled Lance close, kissing hard and firm and needy. Lance tasted like something sweet and alcoholic. He tasted like bad choices. He tasted _fantastic_.

Lance felt Shiro smile against his lips and the action sent warm curls all the way down to the tips of his toes hidden behind sneakers that had a couple hundred too many miles on them.  
  
He'd only seen Shiro smile a handful of times at best. And it had never been this genuine. This one was real. Lance parted from the action nice and slow, azure eyes coming open, meeting with grey, both looking just as surprised as the other.  
  
"You are full of surprises aren't you?" Lance said with a laugh.  
  
"Takashi Shirogane I underestimated you," Lance giggled stroking long fingers through Shiro's bangs, brushing them back.  
  
Shiro smiled, wide and it brought something warm to Lance's chest. He was angry still. Really he was. But he was also sorry. So very sorry.  
  
"I'm still mad at you by the way," Lance said giving Shiro a teasing pair of eyes.  
  
"And I'm still mad at you," Shiro replied with a grin.  
  
"Glad we are on the same page," Lance smiled.  
  
With that the young man nearly jumped into Shiro's hold, the big man picking him up with great ease.

 

*****

 

How much time had passed? Shiro wasn't sure. His sense of time was lost in the flashing lights in the way Lance shifted against him, his jeans falling low, the crack of his rear peeking out of the clothing.  
  
His hair was slick, his eyes were bright, and Shiro hadn't laughed this hard in years  
  
Lance hung his thumbs in the hem of Shiro's pants, grinning as he nosed into the larger man's collarbone.  
  
"I never thought I'd meet someone who was a better dancer than I am," Lance admitted.  
  
He was giddy on the numerous drinks he'd had from the bar, not sweating the alcohol out fast enough to ward the drunken stupor away.  
  
Shiro snorted.  
  
"You're drunk," Shiro hummed into Lance's hair.  
  
"Yeah so are you," Lance slurred.  
  
"I'm gunna fuck you," Lance hiccuped.  
  
Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, hands tightening on the pads of Lance's hips.

Shiro allowed Lance to steal him away. He wasn't keen on leaving the club. He could have danced like that forever, with Lance all around him...but the promise of something better had him following on Lance's heels like a love sick teenager.  
  
They stumbled through the streets. Only wolves were out so late into the midnight, hunting for prey. They were no different. Just a couple of stray wolves. No good would come of this. Neither of them really cared.  
  
Lance's hand was tight in Shiro's, it was making Shiro's palm sweat but he didn't dare let go.  
  
Lance babbled and giggled, stopping every so often to wrap himself up in sliding their mouths together, two bodies rocking, dangerously close to falling to the dusty soil.  
  
Shiro was pretty surprised Lance actually remembered the way back to the black lion. Lance was drunk. Shiro was drunk. Lance might regret this in the morning, regret being with Shiro...but he wouldn't allow himself to clutch that thought for very long.  
  
Lance wanted him.  
  
Gorgeous, giddy, smart, witty, Lance...actually wanted him.  
  
He repeated the sentence over and over again in his head.

The black lion welcomed back her very drunk paladin, illuminating lowly as the two men stumbled into her fortified belly. Shiro had made up a couple of cots in the depths of her when they has landed. Two to be exact.

  
They wouldn't be needing two.  
  
Shiro bullied Lance back toward the closest of the beds until the young man's  legs bumped against the small mattress.  
  
Shiro kissed down the slope of the younger man's neck, feeling his Adam's apple bob against his lips. Lance's pulse was pounding, matching perfectly with Shiro's own heartbeat.  
  
"You are an asshole," Lance smirked between frantic kisses.  
  
"And you are a dick," Shiro snarled back with a grin.  
  
"Fucking stick in the mud, you just aren't any fun," Lance spat as he tumbled back on the bed.  
  
"Oh I'm not?" Shiro laughed as he pressed a thigh up into the apex of Lance's legs, feeling the hard line of Lance's cock.  
  
"You aren't a very good liar," Shiro teased.

The small cot creaked loudly with the weight of the both of them, Shiro's fingers fumbling to find the catches of Lance's jeans, drunken and impatient as he struggled to tear them downward.  
  
Lance lifted his hips, fishing into his back pocket clumsily before coming away with his prize. Lance shoved several packages into Shiro's palm. It was a collection of a mess of condoms and a few tubes of what looked to be lubricant.  
  
Shiro cocked a curious brow.  
  
Lance hummed and threw his arms up over his head, lazily arching his back.  
  
"I got em out of a dispenser in the club bathroom,” Lance mumbled.  
  
"Oh, so you were planning on getting laid tonight?" Shiro growled, nipping at Lance's clavicle.  
  
Lance nodded.  
  
"I was angry. I like fucking when I'm angry,” Lance hissed as Shiro got to the sensitive bud of his right nipple.  
  
"You slut," Shiro spat lightly.  
  
"Something tells me you don't have room to talk,” Lance argued cheekily.  
  
Shiro gently pinched the erect bud between his teeth, gathering a low, helpless moan from the blue paladin.  
  
"You have no idea," Shiro chuckled.  
  
"You still angry?" Shiro asked.  
  
"Yeah," Lance grinned.  
  
"How about we take it out on each other?" Shiro hissed as he rutted his hips into Lance's.

Shiro fumbled with the zipper of his own garments, kicking them off much less than gracefully. Lance's grin widened, watching the other man with a hunger that was fiery and untamed. He spread himself out like a welcome mat across the bedding, cock hard and leaking into the soft brown hairs of his stomach.  
  
Shiro abandoned his clothing on the floor, boots thudding against the metal of the lion.  
  
The bigger man slid against the blue paladin, grabbing hold of thin hips and yanking Lance toward him. He kissed too hard, Lance ducking while he arched.

Bodies moved with one another, like waves lapping at the shore. Quick and drunk and hard.  
  
Lance grabbed at Shiro's hair, pulling too tightly, Shiro sucked a hickey harshly into the side of his neck.  
  
"I'm going to make sure you walk with a limp tomorrow,” Shiro snarled as he ripped open one of the bathroom packages Lance had scrounged.  
  
Lance hummed at the snarled words.  
  
"Won't the others ask questions?" Lance threw back.  
  
"I'll tell them I just couldn't keep you off my dick," Shiro husked into Lance's cheek, human palm grasping firm hold of Lance's ass.  
  
Lance sucked in a chopped breath.  
  
"That doesn't seem very professional black paladin. First you yell at me then you split me open. Could have at least taken me to dinner first,” Lance huffed teasingly.  
  
Shiro's fingers spread Lance's cheeks apart, lanky knees falling open in invitation. The lubricant was cold against his tight ring of muscle, the sensation of Shiro's Galra made fingers was even colder.  
  
Lance jerked and hissed.  
  
"Fuck those are cold,” Lance snapped.  
  
Shiro smiled.  
  
Lance relaxed and hummed, pressing down on the digits slowly, greedily. They were so smooth.

The black paladin eased the thick fingers into Lance, working him open, preparing him diligently. He'd need it after all. If there was one thing Shiro had never been called, it was small.  
  
Shiro tore the condom open with his teeth...clumsily. He used to be really good at that...he was going to blame it on the alcohol.  
  
He rolled the latex downward, eyes flicking to Lance's expression, the young man's eyes refusing to look anywhere else.  
  
"Fuck," Lance whispered eyeing the sheer mass of Shiro's cock.  
  
Shiro grinned, with all of his perfect teeth.  
  
"What's wrong? Too big?" Shiro giggled.  
  
"If it's too much we can just...cuddle," he followed up cheekily.  
  
Lance gave him a dark expression.  
  
"I came here to get laid. It's not that big," Lance countered stubbornly.  
  
Shiro nipped at Lance's bottom lip, sliding the girth of his erection over Lance's, bringing blatant attention to the size difference between them.  
  
"Right," Shiro said with a wink.

Shiro slid his head up against Lance's entrance, he was suddenly so aware this was taking way more concentration than he thought it needed. Shiro slipped, missing his target clumsily.  
  
Lance laughed giddily.  
  
"Having trouble?" Lance snickered.  
  
Shiro shot him a deadpan look and successfully pressed the thick of his head into Lance, spreading him wide.  
  
"I'm doing just fine," Shiro snarled as Lance made a winded noise.

Shiro tried to give Lance time to adjust. But the way Lance was moving, the sounds he was making, their drunken heads had both their actions urgent and sloppy.  
  
Shiro's hips snapped into Lance's, lubricant squelching between them. Lance's voice was needy and loud ringing out through the belly of the lion.  
  
Shiro was high on the sound, letting it drive his vicious thrusts.  
  
Their lips found one another, kissing as if these were their last minutes alive.  
  
Shiro fucked like he had something to prove. He fucked driven on the anger he was harboring toward the younger man. Driven on the crush he'd buried deep but it was now allowed to burn bright and fierce.

Shiro's human palm curled around Lance’s need, the blue paladin arching into his grip.  
  
"Fuck me harder you asshole!!!" Lance bellowed, fingers biting into Shiro's shoulder blades.  
  
"You stubborn brat," Shiro spat back, forcing in deep and hard.  
  
Lance made a punched noise and scraped his fingers down Shiro's bulk, leaving red lines carved in their wake.  
  
Shiro bit Lance's shoulder, stroking Lance faster, fingers playing in the sticky sensation of precum collecting at his slit.  
  
"Fuck!!! Fuck fuck fuck!!!" Lance yelled, hand snapping to curl in the sheets.  
  
"You've got a nasty mouth on you," Shiro growled.

"Oh fuck Shiro I'm about to cum!!!" Lance whimpered, moving lazily into Shiro's hips, eyes pricking with tears, mouth wide open.  
  
"Mmm of course you are. My cock feels so good in you doesn't it?" Shiro snarled.  
  
Lance nodded feverishly.  
  
With his hips snapping off the mattress Lance came, roping his finish up over his chest, crying Shiro's name pathetic and loud.  
  
Shiro nuzzled into Lance's neck, feeling the young man's muscles convulse and clench around him was far too much. Far too good.  
  
Shiro pressed flush to Lance, grinding his hips against the blue paladin as he chased Lance's finish, cock flexing within the tight space provided.  
  
The black paladin purred into Lance's skin, whispering his name shamelessly.  
  
Shiro had no idea where Lance landed in his count of people he'd slept with. He didn't care to remember anymore. But this one was different. This was one he'd never forget. This one he wanted to happen again. And again. And again.

Lance heaved into the heavy air, the lights of the lion barely glittering down on their sweat riddled bodies. Shiro settled his weight down on Lance's form, sucking in labored breaths.  
  
"Oh my god you are so heavy and gross. Get off," Lance complained cheekily.  
  
Shiro purposefully rubbed his sweaty locks against Lance's cheek and the young man squealed in protest.  
  
Shiro carefully pried himself from Lance's tightness and rolled to his side, both of them cramped on the single bed.  
  
Lance reached down onto the floor and used Shiro's pants to wipe the smeared cum off his chest.  
  
Shiro cocked his brow at Lance.  
  
"Did you just wipe cum all over my pants?" Shiro laughed.  
  
Lance nodded.  
  
"Damn right I did," Lance giggled.  
  
"You want me to give you this bed? I take up a bunch of space," Shiro asked, eyes threatening to close.  
  
Lance shook his head.  
  
"Naw. You are a dick but you are comfortable," Lance whispered resting his head on Shiro's chest.

 

*****

 

Shiro's eyes rolled beneath heavy lids.  
  
What in hell's name was that sound??  
  
The abrasive beeping wasn't going away.  He snarled into the pillow his face was buried within.  
  
It was getting louder.  
  
Shiro rolled, much to his dismay, too far and he crashed to the floor, hitting loud, with a curse drifting from his mouth.  
  
The big man crawled to his feet and grabbed blindly for his communicator.  
  
He clicked the small button and shielded his eyes from the bright lights.  
  
"Shiro! There you are, we have been trying to contact you," Allura's concerned face appeared on the monitor.  
  
Shiro rubbed his hand through his hair. He was suddenly so aware he most likely looked like death....and was absolutely not dressed...at least he was only visible from the chest up.  
  
Allura's face screwed up and suddenly pidges form appeared in the screen, Hunk and Keith tiptoeing in the background.  
  
"We...thought something might have happened to you two?" Allura questioned slowly.  
  
"We were about to send a rescue mission," Keith said looking over Allura's shoulder.  
  
"You look like crap," Pidge said bluntly.  
  
Hunk frowned at her.  
  
"Oh no, I just overslept," Shiro grumbled.  
  
His head was pounding  
  
"Jeezus Shiro that's bright. Cut that thing off," Lance mumbled from the other side of the bed, rolling over to throw his arm around Shiro's waist.  
  
All four paladin's eyes went wide.  
  
"Uh. We're fine! Mission went great! Gotta go!" Shiro said hurriedly as he cut the screen off.  
  
Lance giggled from the pile of covers.  
  
"I think everybody knows your little secret now don't they? Mister big bad black paladin," Lance said with a sigh.  
  
Shiro shrugged.  
  
"I like this wild side of you," Lance mumbled.

  
Shiro flopped backward onto the bed tiredly.  
  
"So. Are you still mad?" Shiro asked.  
  
Lance shrugged.  
  
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Shiro said shifting until Lance was laid across him.  
  
"I'm sorry for the things I said," Lance responded with a yawn.  
  
"I like fucking when I'm angry...but y'know I like fucking when I'm not too," Lance said softly, nuzzling into the covers.  
  
"We should fuck more often," The blue paladin mumbled.  
  
Shiro laughed.  
  
"Agreed." He grinned kissing Lance's hair.


End file.
